The sky burned.
Not metaphorically—but truly burned. Rivers of gold fire bled across the clouds as if the heavens themselves had been torn open, and from that wound poured the wrath of gods. The air screamed. The ground trembled beneath the pressure of divine energy, each pulse rattling through Lyria's bones like the tolling of a thousand war drums.
Kael stood at the center of it all—wings unfurled, his body a fusion of darkness and light, his shadow stretching across the ravaged earth. He looked every bit the god they feared, every bit the Alpha she had loved and lost and found again in ruin.
And Lyria could not look away.
"Kael—" Her voice broke as another flare of power erupted above them, splitting a nearby mountain into dust. "You can't fight them all!"
He turned his head slightly, his golden eyes glowing with a brilliance that could melt stone. "I was born for this, Lyria."
